Skunked

Yesterday morning, as I went about my normal witching hour routine, which means feeding the feral cats out front, then getting the Beagle Brothers ready for their drive into Berthoud proper for a peaceful walk around the black perimeter of huge park area before any other naturally non-nocturnal creature is up and about, I had forgotten that I accidently left the basement door open the night before. So, while I dressed in the kitchen – I don’t like to wake Lisa, so I dress downstairs – Bandit proceeded down to the basement and out the back door.

Now that isn’t a problem because the Beagle Brothers and Claire and Honey have free reign and full access to the property which is enclosed by fencing that has openings that allow smaller creatures like rabbits and squirrels to easily pass through. And I don’t mind them going out at night alone because they often accompany me during my nocturnal rambles and are well behaved – they won’t bark unless they spot zombies while on patrol.

One of the feral creatures that I rarely encounter around my neighborhood are skunks. I’ve seen a few in my local travels just never met one on the property.

That changed during the nocturnal transit between Tuesday and Wednesday.

While I was sitting in the dining area pulling on my five toe boots the house was suddenly permeated with an eye burning stench. It seemed to rise right through the air vents. I thought back for a moment to that scene in Kissing My Ass Goodbye when Casa Claire and its mystical occupants came under assault by the evil twins.

That’s when I noticed that only my beagle, Smokey, was beside me waiting patiently for his collar and lead.

I went out on the back deck – where the stench was eye burning – and stage whispered “Bandit” into the back darkness, and a moment later could make out his form racing from the back property, through the yard, around the side and ultimately onto the deck. There were no signs of an altercation – no blood or flesh on his jaws – so I figured he was all right.

Given that everything smelled awful, I didn’t then notice that Bandit himself was a carrier, so I leashed him and then walked both dogs out the front door to my Toyota Rav4 – yes, the same one from TCS – and drove the ten-minute trip into Berthoud proper.

I assumed that the stench in the car had just come in through the vents.

As a long-time NYC subway passenger, my nasal passages have developed a defensive talent for nose-blindness. At the first scent of any vapor that is caustic, my sense of smell shuts down and I breath only with my mouth. If something noxious is going to kill me, I don’t want to risk dying of disgust beforehand.

Anyway, once I was out with the Beagle Brothers on their walk, I didn’t notice any particular smell. My attention mostly focuses on the surroundings for signs of anything that may want to do me harm or become the next friendly physical challenge for the Beagle Brothers’ tag team.

But once we returned to the enclosed space of the Toyota interior, my eyes again began to water, and I pulled to two dogs close. Smokey was relatively fragrant. Bandit was skunked.

When I returned to Casa Claire, I opened every door and window to try and get some fresh air in the place before her nibs came down from the bedroom tower.

It didn’t help.

When Lisa finally came down to inflict my morning insulin injection, it came with an additional instruction – wash the dogs they’ve been skunked.

Now our dogs back in the Bronx – the am-staff, Maeve and smaller beagle, Shorty – had had their fair share of skunking during our many trips through the thickly wooded trails of Van Cortlandt Park. So, I was no stranger to the recovery process. Maeve’s white coat often turned pink from the tomato juice baths she received. In the end, I found that unless the animal has taken a direct it in the face with a skunk’s spray – a long soak and scrubbing in a Dawn Dishwashing bubble bath usually does the trick.

Bandit went first –

– followed by Smokey –

– who, despite not being a victim of the skunk, got a bath anyway because everything with the Beagle Brothers is a twofer. This way it didn’t seem like I was punishing Bandit or excluding Smokey from a foam frolic in the first floor bathroom.

The baths seemed to have exhausted them.

But their treatment converted my very clean bathroom into a post-game football locker room.

Cleaning it exhausted me.

A small price to pay to return Casa Claire and the creatures within to their pre-skunking scent.

However, I did notice a slight residual pong in the Toyota this morning as we headed for another Berthoud walkies. Luckily, Lisa – who has the nasal sensitivity of a Grimm Brothers witch – never travels in the Toyota, which is the Casa Claire knock around vehicle. It should clear over time.

I’m hoping the skunk has seen the error of its ways – or that Bandit knows to give it plenty of clearance at their next encounter and conveys that warning to his brother.

I must keep the Beagle Brothers Hollywood ready, now that they are central characters in Spark of Faith.

Well, today is Thursday, which means I have to maneuver two weeks of recyclables out to the front of the property – it’s ridiculous how much we recycle with just Lisa and I in the house.

Most of it comes from the animals.

But we must all do our parts.

Well, my fine, five readers, today is Thursday, so make sure you finish up any of your work projects for the week. You’ll want it all -clear for an early escape to the weekend come magical Friday.

And no matter what else we get up to, let us make today a great one.

Oh, and happy birthday to my oldest brother, Eddie. May all of your birthday wishes come true.